


No Other Midnight

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Universe, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:57:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Isaac Lahey and longtime boyfriend Scott McCall decide to bring their relationship to the next level, they take the advice of Peter Hale and come together on the full moon. A week later, Scott hears the news: Isaac is with child. Questions and suspicions arise and bring to light the issue of Peter and his ulterior motives. And when someone closest to the boys and their allies steps forward in allegence to Peter, protecting Beacon Hills may be harder than it first seemed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“Do it on the full moon.”_

   
 _Isaac Lahey jerked up from his book to see Peter Hale standing over him with a leer on his face._

   
 _“I’m sorry?” He asked, but Peter only rolled his eyes and began pacing Derek’s flat. Isaac usually came here after school before sleeping at Scott’s house, but he hadn’t realized Peter would be there today._

 

_“Oh don’t think I don’t know what’s going on,” Peter chuckled as he perched on the desk. “I saw Scott buying the silk sheets.”_

 

_Isaac’s pale face went up at flames at Peter’s direct hit. “I-It’s not what you think.”_

 

_“Save it for someone who actually believes it,” he hissed. “I know you’re planning to do the dirty deed, and I’m not going to lecturing you about safety and all that teenage stuff. But if you want to make it really special, do it on the full moon, before you both lose control completely.”_

 

_Now Isaac wasn’t the most educated werewolf on the planet, but that seemed like a really bad idea. But Derek’s uncle seemed to read his mind and waved his concern away._

 

_“It won’t do anything. I’ve done it plenty of times, and you’ll be perfectly fine.”_

 

 

 

Blood spurted out from between Isaac’s lips and splattered onto the tile flooring of Dr. Deaton’s veterinary office. A rough moan forced itself up his throat right after the crimson mess.

 

“Isaac!” Deaton sprinted around the counter and lifted the young werewolf up off the floor.

 

“Oh god . . . It hurts . . . Hurts so bad . . .” He hiccupped out more of his life blood before Deaton got him laying on the too-small metal examining table. Isaac’s black boots swung almost to the ground.

 

“Isaac,” Deaton held his calm composure as he checked him over for any injuries. “Isaac, you must tell me where you’re hurting.” Even as his brain swam with pain, his hands found the affected area: underneath his navel.  
 

Deaton ripped the shirt down the center, not caring to ask Isaac if that was his favorite (which it was), but nothing seemed to be wrong with the smooth ribbon of skin. But even as he watched, Isaac howled with pain and something fluttered in his stomach.  
 

“Please help me,” he sobbed, clutching at Deaton’s wrist. “Make it stop.”  
 

Finally a sliver of panic cracked the special vet’s façade. He snatched up his office phone and dialed the only other adult human who knew about the werewolves in the town. Scott’s mom, Melissa McCall, worked at the hospital, and would be able to grant him access to x-rays and MRI machines. It could possibly save Isaac’s life.  
 

“McCall.”

 

“Melissa, please.”

 

“Deaton?”

 

“Send an ambulance to the vet office, now.”

 

Melissa caught the slight emotion in Deaton’s voice. “What’s going on?”

 

The youth rolled over to his elbows and spat blood onto the metal table, then fell face-first onto the floor.

 

“It’s Isaac.”

 

 

 

Lying still and pale under the massive MRI contraption, Melissa couldn’t help but pity the young boys who had to carry the weight of the supernatural on their shoulders.

 

“Well at least he’s not bleeding anymore.” Deaton had come up beside her unnoticed. Worry seeped into his eyes.

 

“Do you have any idea what happened to him? Or . . . Is happening?” It didn’t reassure her any when the experienced werewolf healer shook his head.

 

“Only once, and if this is the same thing, then life as Isaac knows it will never return to what it was for him before.”  
 

Melissa was getting tired of this mystical crap Deaton was feeding her. Dealing with a teenage boy and his friends had left her with zero tolerance for misdirection.

 

“Deaton.” Blinking, the vet answered to her forceful tone of voice. “What’s wrong with that boy?”

 

He heaved a sigh and glanced back into the examination room.

 

“I believe Isaac’s pregnant.”

 

 

 

 _“What the hell do you mean I’m pregnant?”_ Isaac shrieked, his voice raising high enough to shatter glass. “I-I’m a dude! I don’t have one of th-those things!”

 

The trio were gathered in a standard doctor’s office room with the shades drawn. After hearing the staggering news, Isaac’s gray eyes were rapidly filling with tears.

 

“You do now.” Stone cold evidence was presented in the MRI results. “Your healing powers were activated to believe you were missing a uterus, so they built one for you.”

 

Nothing was clicking together in Isaac’s head. “But why would it even think that?”

 

“There’s only one reason this would happen.” Despite the tears and hysterics, Deaton fixed Isaac with a chilly glare. “And you better not lie to me. Did you have sex on the full moon?”

 

Isaac looked down guiltily, his expression answering the question better than words ever could. “Peter said it would be fine,” he mumbled. Deaton slammed his fist onto the countertop, making Melissa and Isaac jump.

 

“I should’ve known that bastard was behind this,” he growled, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket. “I need to call Derek.”

 

“I need to get back to work,” Melissa said softly to Isaac as Deaton went outside to take the call. “Are you going to be alright?”

 

Would he be _alright?_ His world was collapsing in around him. There was something growing inside his stomach, something that he would have to care for in just a short time. Not to mention he had the duties of being a werewolf and a high-school lacrosse player to worry about. Finally the tears slipped down his cheeks, and he shook his head meekly.

 

“I don’t know what’s happening.” His voice cracked on the last word, and Melissa’s heart broke for the teen. She folded him in a hug, and he cried into her shoulder. But he had to ruin the moment with the truth.

 

“It was Scott.” Melissa, not fully comprehending, drew back slightly; gazing into Isaac’s eyes with concern. He couldn’t meet them.

 

“What do you mean, what happened to Scott?” Isaac swallowed hard.

 

“The . . . Baby. I think it’s Scott’s.”

 

Though it took a moment for the news to sink in, Melissa’s eyes finally widened in shock and understanding.

 

She felt dizzy. “Oh god. Did you two . . .” She knew the answer even before he nodded. “That’s not--"  
 

“He’s telling the truth.” They both snapped toward the door as Deaton reentered. “The child is Scott’s.” Melissa sank into a chair.

 

“The only way for a male werewolf to impregnate is with another male on the full moon. If it happened with a girl, they would be the one carrying. What Peter Hale wants with a pregnant werewolf is anyone’s guess.”

 

“Does Scott know about this?” Melissa asked after a moment of tense silence.

 

“I’ve informed Derek. He’s calling a meeting with everyone: Scott, Stiles, Lydia, Allison, Boyd and anyone else who needs to know. Your son is a smart boy. I’m sure he’ll figure out what happened.”

 

Isaac’s head had fallen back against the wall as he tried to imagine Scott’s reaction. Unknowingly, his hands found their way to his stomach.

 

“If you need to leave you can, Melissa. I’m just going to explain some things to Isaac.” Ms. McCall stood slowly, and began to make her way to the door. But before she was halfway there, she whirled around and flew to Isaac; smothering him in a hug.

 

“You and Scott will have a beautiful family,” she murmured in his ear. “I’ll talk with him about being a wonderful father.”  
 

Isaac started crying even harder. “Thank you so much.” She pulled away, gave him a quick but warm smile, and vanished out the door. Isaac wiped away his tears and turned to fully face Deaton.

 

“I’m ready.”

 

A curt nod was all he got.

 

“Things are a bit different in your body than an average humans. For example, the whole pregnancy will last only eight weeks, instead of nine months. This will make it easier for you to get back into the flow of life and protecting Beacon Hills. However, there are a few downfalls. Your hormones will be everywhere for these two months. And while the werewolf body heals extremely fast, and can handle the extra growth that comes with the development, there may be some discomfort. As well as everything that comes with a regular pregnancy, including cramping, back pains, fatigue, cravings, and nausea. You and Scott will have to handle these issues yourself.

 

“Your first trimester will last only a few days. Since the full moon was over a week ago, I’m pretty sure you’re already past this point. That means the baby’s body structure and organs have already formed.”

 

_That means the baby is already alive inside of me._

 

“The second trimester is where our issue arises. You should start showing in as little as two days, maybe less, maybe more. You’ll start gaining weight, and some of your nausea may decrease. The third trimester will last for only a week. We’ll have to monitor you closely. This is usually the most difficult time during a werewolf’s term.”

 

During all this, Isaac’s hands absently brushed the front of his sweatshirt, which Melissa had provided after Deaton had ripped his favorite tee.

 

“That’s another thing,” the vet added after catching the movement. “Werewolves are fiercely protective of their young. You’ll probably become snappish, and not let anyone touch you or your stomach, the latter especially. Scott perhaps may be the only one who can get close to you during this difficult time.”

 

After all the minutes of talking, Isaac only blinked in a dazed fashion.

 

“Do you have any questions?” The question was purely required, Deaton was confident he had covered every subject.

 

“Yeah . . . Where am I going to live?”

 

Oops. “Isaac, that’s not really my area of expertise. But if I had to answer, I’d suggest staying with Scott and his mother. Permanently. Derek might not . . . Like your presence.”

 

“What do you mean? He’s never had a problem before.”

 

Deaton seemed a bit uncomfortable. “Werewolves’ keen sense of smell pick up even the slightest change. You’ll practically be dripping with pregnancy fumes. Derek’s worried that might give away his home.”

   
It seemed harsh to Isaac, but he couldn’t really complain. Ms. McCall seemed open to him being there anyways.

 

“I’ll go get my things,” he said slowly, stepping down from the examination bench. “Could you--”

 

“Of course I can give you a ride home,” Deaton laughed, reading his mind. He followed Isaac out, knowing that the boy’s worst days were yet to come.


	2. Chapter 2

Three days later, Isaac clambered out of Stiles’s baby blue jeep. As much as he would love to ride on the back of Scott’s dirt bike, Deaton had warned against it. Anything that might prove harmful to the baby were completely scratched off the list. As his feet hit the ground, a breeze touched just above the waistband of his sweatpants. Frantically he tugged his sweater down over the small bump that was proving to be not-so-small after all.

“Isaac, man,” Stiles sighed, watching him freak, “you have to let us get you some new clothes. I mean, I get the whole ‘I don’t like owing people things,’ but someone’s bound to notice sooner or later. You’re risking the safety of the entire pack.” 

Isaac only shot Stiles a sad look, then walked off to find Scott. 

“Hey!” Whirling around at the familiar voice, Isaac got a face-full of hair as Scott practically squeezed him to death. Nothing could have diminished Scott’s love for Isaac, and after he had received the news, the nurse’s son had let Isaac sleep in his bed since he had started freezing on the couch. Something about the pregnancy was screwing with his temperature.

“Can’t . . . Breathe . . .” Isaac gasped, smiling. Scott leaped back, looking concerned. 

“Sorry! Are you alright? Is . . . Are you alright?” His hands fluttered around Isaac’s stomach before flopping down to his sides. Isaac simply laughed and took his hand, leading him into the school.

“We’re fine. You just startled me, that’s all.” Scott’s face shone with pride. Yesterday as they lay in bed together, Isaac exhausted from a long day of tests with Dr. Deaton, Scott had confessed his excitement about the baby. It had caught Isaac a bit off guard, but Scott’s enthusiasm was definitely contagious, and Isaac had begun looking longingly at baby clothes. Deaton had upped Scott’s pay, too, so when the time came he could support the new addition.

But, in the meantime, they had to battle through Beacon Hills High. Isaac had Allison and Lydia in his first period, and they smiled reassuringly when he sat down.

“How’re you holding up?” Lydia asked, sounding nonchalant and overly-concerned in that special tone of voice she saved for close friends. 

Isaac simply shrugged. “As well I’m ever going to.” 

Another thing that worried Isaac was Scott and Allison. Their past was tangled, and they had even dated a while before Scott had realized he didn’t love her. But the huntress handled everything extremely well. In fact, all this good feeling was making Isaac nervous. Something was bound to catch up to him in the near future. He had a meeting with Derek after school that day, actually. Perhaps that’s when things would go wrong.

In lieu with his thoughts, a cramp sparked to life in his stomach—reminding him that the pregnancy wasn’t all butterflies and rainbows.

 

 

“Are you nervous about meeting Derek?” They stood in front of Scott’s bike, hugging for longer than necessary. 

“Of course,” Isaac answered honestly. “But if he wanted to hurt me, he would’ve done it when he first found out. I’ll be fine.”

But he was far from “fine.” The cramps had escalated all day, resulting not only in a terrific ache in his lower abdomen, but also a headache that made his brain murky. He hadn’t concentrated on school all day, and often found a hand stroking underneath his sweatshirt.

Scott gave him a knowing look, but kissed him hard and climbed on his bike. “Call me when you’re done so I can come and get you at Derek’s. And I’ll bring the car, so don’t worry.” After one last blown kiss, Scott pulled away. Not even a minute later, Derek’s car pulled up; driven by one of his cronies. Isaac, after pulling his sweatshirt down self-consciously, climbed into the backseat, nervously awaiting the drive to face his alpha.

 

The downtown loft apartment where Derek now resided was quite impressive. Brickwork and wide windows gave the place an air of openness and natural charm. But all welcome feelings were lost when Isaac saw the older wolf sitting on the couch with his back to the door. A wave of flashbacks mingled with the reality of the room, and the image of Derek overlapped with his spectral father. Someone's childhood was supposed to hold sparkling memories of family dinners, piggyback rides, and cupcakes, but it seemed the happiest years of Isaac's life were when he had found Derek and his pack. The years past hadn't exactly been . . . Easy. After his mother died, Mr. Lahey had resorted to verbal and physical abuse to make himself feel important. One particularly vile memory was when Isaac got bad grades. His father would sit alone for hours--silently waiting for his young son to get home so the punishment could be administered. Derek's stance so mirrored his dad's that Isaac immediately went on guard.

"Derek?"

The alpha stood to face his young friend; motioning for him to take the seat opposite. Nothing could be read in his eyes, and he deliberately remained impassive. Carefully, so as not to trigger his fury, Isaac sat.

For a full minute they remained silent as Derek examined every inch of his body. Isaac squirmed uncomfortably.

"You're already showing." Derek stated simply, looking pointedly down at Isaac's shirt. For the first time in the whole ordeal he felt heavy and awkward, caught in Derek's judging gaze.

"Yes. For about a day now."

"Hasn't anyone offered you new clothes?"

Isaac frowned. "Yeah, but I haven't actually taken them up on the offer."

"You need to," Derek finally snapped. "If you don't, you'll be even more obvious than you already are."

Isaac winced at his tone of voice, and nodded obediently. Stiles had been right.

Without warning, Derek leaped to his feet and began pacing the room.

"I can't believe you and Scott would do this. Out of all the people I expected to . . . Whose idea was it?"

Though the words were there, Isaac was finding it hard to respond. That is, until Derek screamed loud enough to wake up the neighborhood.

_"Answer me!"_

He cringed backwards into the chair. "No one, we-we'd been planning it for a month."

"Did Scott ever say anything about Peter egging him on?"

"No, never. He would've told me."

Derek stalked forward and planted a hand on either armrest, boxing Isaac in. His heart pounded in his chest, more scared of Derek than he had ever been before. Suddenly Derek's fingers reached down as if to touch Isaac's swollen sweatshirt.

The consequence of the action came faster than you could imagine. Isaac snapped out of the chair, grabbing Derek's wrist while twisting his arm behind his back and shoving him down into the floor. Neither wolf had transformed, but Isaac's eyes were glowing menacingly.

"Don't touch me," he snarled in Derek's ear. After it appeared certain the alpha had gotten the message, Isaac stood upright and backed against the wall. Whatever had taken hold of him was slowly ebbing away. Derek got to his feet--rubbing his shoulder and looking at Isaac in a new light. Still scorning, but . . . Respectful.

"Looks like the maternal instincts are kicking in already." There was no response from his beta. "Isaac, I'm sorry. I had to see how capable you are even with this . . . Issue."

Derek took a step forward, and Isaac took a step back. If the teen had fur, it would've been raised in warning.

_Deaton said that he's be snappish, but those reflexives are amazing,_ Derek thought to himself, sizing up Isaac's tense form.

"I-I'm sorry," Isaac finally said. "I didn't mean to do that. This whole thing is kind of new to me." He lowered his eyes sheepishly and sat back down in the chair; pressing his fingertips into each throbbing temple. "It's way worse than I thought. And I still have school to worry about and what everyone will think--" sobs broke through his confession, and Derek moved to sit across from him once more. It was general knowledge that Derek did not comfort his pack when they were crying pitifully. He gave them cryptic advice and left them to deal with the load themselves. But something about Isaac hunched over in his too-small sweatshirt made Derek stay.

"It may seem difficult, but you only have six or seven more weeks of this. And you have people to help you through it, which is more than some werewolves can claim. Yeah, you may miss a month of school, but aren't you loser kids always complaining about how you hate that place anyway?"

"Amen," Isaac mumbled through the tears, eliciting a chuckle out of Derek. Quickly, to stave off any more embarrassment, he scrubbed the tears with his sleeves and turned his puffy eyes up to his alpha. 

"I'm sorry," he reiterated. Derek clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be sorry. If anyone is allowed to cry, it'll be you." 

Isaac sniffed and gave a weak smile. "Thanks Derek. I'll call Scott to come and pick me up now." 

A look of concern passed Derek's dark visage. "Are you sure you don't want to wait inside?" Isaac politely shook his head, already pulling out his phone.

"I need some fresh air. I'll see you later."

Before he was there, Derek called out to him. He stopped halfway outside.

"Please . . . Let Lydia and Allison buy you some clothes." 

Isaac shot him a grin and shut the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Although everyone in his pack had offered him clothes (or threatened kidnapping if he didn't want to go willingly), Isaac stoutly refused to go until Scott gently brought up the subject three days after his meeting with Derek. 

_Scott had snuck up behind his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around Isaac's waist so his hands rested on his distended stomach. As well as Isaac was handling everything, it was still a little weird for someone to touch the baby growing inside him. Somehow it defined everything into a reality he hadn't been feeling. Of course, it was hard to ignore the fact that his stomach seemed to swell more each hour._

_"Honey," Scott said softly, nervous about bringing up such a delicate subject, "I know you like the clothes you have now, but--"_

_"Oh gosh, not you too," Isaac sighed, finally realizing he was showing too much not to get something new. "Do you really think I need to?"_

_Scott nodded apologetically and swiped a finger along the bare strip of skin between the hem of Isaac's shirt and sweatpants. Fitting into his old pairs of jeans were impossible, and even his baggy pajama shirts were stretching slightly. This was a swiftly lost battle._

_"I'll talk to Lydia and Allison about skipping tomorrow," he finally conceded, "if you think it's necessary."_

_One look from Scott was all it took for him to realize it really was. Isaac leaned forward and brushed his lips against his boyfriend's._

_"Whatever you think is necessary," he whispered in Scott's ear. He shuddered and kissed him back just a little harder--"_

"Hey? Earth to Mommy?" The recollection shattered into a thousand pieces as Lydia's voice barged into his brain. Suddenly he found himself back in a department store with two girls, standing in front of the maternity section, and remembered why he had tried to hide in thoughts of Scott. 

"Lydia," he hissed, glancing around furtitively. "I can't shop here."

In response, she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him and Allison in between the racks of baggy clothes. "It's not for a whole wardrobe change, we're just getting you some pants that aren't for working out in." He was led to the jeans section, where everything was made of stretchy fabric that made him look like a girl. After his refusal to come out of the dressing room, Lydia and Allison stepped in to judge his selection. 

"I mean . . . If you kind of squint . . . " Allison's face scrunched up as she attempted to see the girlish pants in a new light. 

"The only reason they look as good as they do on you is because you're drop-dead gorgeous," Lydia observed. 

Even with that encouraging piece of advice, Isaac absolutely refused to buy the pants. There was some uncomfortable strip of black fabric that wrapped around his stomach and made him feel too enclosed. After shooing the girls out, he quickly stripped down and put on the other option, a normal pair of jeans a few sizes too large. At least he still looked like he was of the male gender. 

When Isaac lost himself in thought, his hands usually found their way to his stomach, but he'd never actually taken the time to look. Cautiously he turned to the mirror in the dressing room and winced. His stomach was too smooth and round to pass off as a simple weight gain. Plus it distended more than an inch out over the waistband of the jeans. Sighing in realization that it would only get worse from here, he slipped his new sweater over his head, and did his best to arrange it in a less obvious fashion.

"Hello."

The voice sent Isaac against the wall of the small room; his arms wrapped protectively around the baby and eyes locking onto the intruder. When he saw who it was, a hiss tore out from between his teeth. 

Peter Hale stood calmly against the opposite wall, staring at the younger werewolf with a mixture of pity and adoration. 

"Get out." Isaac snarled, his voice sharp as glass. "I never want to see your face again." 

"Tsk Tsk, Isaac," Peter laughed, moving closer to the teen. "Is that anyway to treat your godfather?"

"You are _nothing_ to my child," Isaac snapped, coiling down to further cover his stomach. 

"I am the reason you even _have_ that abomination," answered Peter, sounding surprisingly frustrated. "And you will repay your dues to me in time." After this outburst, Peter straightened his shoulders and closed his eyes. "I didn't come here to fight with you, Isaac." 

"Then what're you here for?" 

In answer, Peter took sudden steps toward the boy; flicking his wrists to release a fine mist into his face. Almost immediately Isaac's stormy gray eyes clouded over and rolled back into his skull. Peter, already knowing the effects of the drug, dashed forward and guided Isaac to the ground. 

"Wouldn't want to hurt the baby," he muttered to himself, and chuckled softly at his own joke. He snapped out a single claw and drew a corked vial out of his pocket, swirling a finger in the potent cocktail. Quickly, worrying that someone would notice something amiss, he rolled up Isaac's sleeve and pressed a nail to his milky white forearm. Ever so slowly, dragging just hard enough to draw a thin line of blood, he drew a strange symbol onto the werewolf's skin. Isaac moaned softly as he replaced the glass into his coat.

"Don't worry," Peter whispered as he stood. "This will make it easier for them to find you when the time comes." And just as suddenly as he had appeared, he vanished, leaving Isaac prone on the floor.

A rapping sounded at the door.

"Isaac?" Lydia sounded bored, but when there came no responses form within, panic slipped into her cries.

_"Isaac?"_

 

Scott was in economy when he got the text from Stiles.

**Isaac in trouble. Come to Dereks.**

"Mr. Finstock," he blurted in the silence, "I'm not feeling very well."

"Suck it up, McCall, we have a test on Thursday."

Scott needed a way out _now._ Isaac was depending on him, lying hurt somewhere, and he was stuck in school. Without overthinking it, Scott took a deep breath and snatched up his backpack. In four steps he was at the door, shouting promises to study that night.

"McCall!"

But he was already outside, shoving on his helmet.

¥

Seven minutes later, Scott burst into the apartment with eyes blazing and panting for breath.

"Where is he?"

Stiles materialized in a dark hallway, pointing down into the shadows.

"He's in Derek's--"

Scott brushed by him without a word, not even bothering to ask how Stiles got here that fast. Dark images of his boyfriend dead flashing through his head and pushed everything else to the corners. The door to Derek's room was closed, and Scott slowed down long enough to ease it open without a sound. He heaved a sigh of relief as he caught sight of Isaac in one piece.

Surrounding him were Lydia, Allison, and Derek, and Stiles was standing in the hallway behind Scott. At first he thought that he had been the last one informed before he remembered that Allison and Lydia had taken Isaac shopping. The clothes in question were crumpled in the corner, still in the bag. 

The boy he had come for was lying under a thick comforter, yet his lips were tinged blue with chill, as if he had just been frozen for a year. Sprawled out on the pillow, golden curls surrounded his porcelain face like a halo. Scott found it hard to breathe at the sight of his love, but he found his feet moving toward the bed. When a floorboard creaked, Isaac’s bleary eyes fluttered open.

“. . . Scott?” He perched on the edge of the bed, reaching to push a curl off of his forehead.

“I’m here. Oh god, I’m here, everything’s going to be fine.” Scott lifted his eyes to meet Stiles’s, and the best friends shared a silent message.

“Let’s give them some privacy,” Stiles suggested, already easing Derek out the door, Lydia and Allison followed, the latter giving Scott an encouraging grin. As soon as the door clicked shut, he slid under the sheets with his boyfriend. Even under layers of blankets, the cold seeped off of his skin like a winter breeze.

“I’m so cold,” Isaac mumbled, so softly Scott had to scoot closer to hear him. Of all the scenarios Scott had imagined, this was by far the worst. Seeing Isaac weak and defenseless, carrying his own child while he could do nothing to aid him, made him feel sick. Gently, he took Isaac’s hands in his own, and turned him so that his spine was against Scott’s stomach. For once, protected and isolated from the world, the two felt like a family. Carefully, for he feared Isaac had drifted off to sleep, Scott slid his hands around his boyfriend’s waist and cupped both their hands around his round stomach. Warmth filled his entire body, and he willed some of that energy into Isaac, so perhaps he may get warm again.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pushing his face into Isaac’s freezing neck. “I’ll never leave you again.”

 

†

   
The massive book Derek had thrown off the shelf hit the floor with a dull thud, and blew years of dust into Stiles’s face.

“Oops,” Derek said, not sounding sorry at all. “Can you hand that back to me?” Stiles, being the cynical high school teenager that he was, aimed to throw the book back at the elder boys face, but froze upon seeing the look in his eyes. He gently placed the book in Derek’s waiting hands.

“So do you think it was wolfsbane?” Allison asked, referring to the traces of blue-ish liquid found around the strange mark on Isaac’s arm.

“No . . . If it is what I think it is, then it wasn’t meant to hurt Isaac at all. Well, not in the near future anyway.”

“What do you think it is?”

“If I can just—Aha, here it is. _Yosea. A plant with minimum medicinal properties, used simply for clearing up the sinus cavity in certain canine breeds. Found mainly in the Valley regions of Southern California where tribes of Epotica Native Americas made their first settlements. They grew the plant in large numbers."_

When Derek lifted his gaze from the book, he was met with three blank faces staring back at him.

"What does that have to do with _anything?"_  

"It means something a little more than clear up a werewolf's nose, Lydia. When mixed with the blood, it works to--"

"--Amplify any difference in individual scent the werewolf might have." All eyes snapped up to see that Scott had entered the room. Rumpled hair and weary eyes showed that seeing Isaac in his current state had out more troubles on his mind, which he scarcely needed. "Whether it be from sickness, curse, or pregnancy. They marked him."

"That's what I suspect," Derek conceded, replacing the book where he had found it on the shelf. "Someone's going to start looking for him in particular."

Allison sat forward in her chair with a contemplative look about her. "But when? And why?"  

Derek didn't answer. Suddenly exhausted from laying with Isaac, Scott collapsed into the closest empty chair. Despair oozed out of his very being, infecting the others with his somber air. Even his words were laced with fatigue.

"How long is he going to be like this?" 

"If Allison's estimate of the dose is correct, about a week."

"But . . . But by then wouldn't it be impossible for him to go to school? I mean, he'll be too . . . " Stiles tried to politely mime Isaac's physique, but only earned himself a sharp glare from Scott.

"You're right," interrupted Derek before a fight could break out. "At the rate Isaac is growing, he'll be too obvious to return to school when he's recovered."

A heavy silence fell over the room, only broken by the whirring of the heating system. Derek had turned the whole apartment up to full blast to try and thaw Isaac.

"Where is he supposed to stay?" Lydia finally asked, glancing around at the gathered group. "I mean, if we're all at school . . ."

"Why don't you ask me?" Once again, all eyes turned to the apartment's singular corridor, where the werewolf in question stood, draped in a comforter. Purple bags hung under his eyes, and his entire body trembled from head to toe, but he stood straight up to his 5'8 height. Scott leaped to his feet, and Isaac allowed himself to be lead over to the couch, which he sank into gratefully. Scott sat so close beside him Stiles swore they were going to become one person. 

"Isaac, we were just--" 

"Talking about me like a child," he snapped bitterly, "I know. I heard the whole conversation. I guess school is done for me until this whole thing is over."

"It won't be that bad," Stiles said gently, perching on the armrest beside Isaac's curly head. "I wish I could miss school for two months."

Something seemed to shift in Isaac's stormy gray eyes, and he crumpled into Scott.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "Scott I'm so _so_ sorry."

Scott, for his part, handled the meltdown surprisingly well--he pulled Isaac into his chest and sent long fingers stroking through his hair, but looked a little surprised, as did everyone else.

"You haven't done anything wrong, why are you sorry?" He asked with a little laugh, kissing his forehead. Isaac just wailed and buried his face in Scott's sweater (which was slowly soaking through with werewolf tears).

Unanimously, without saying a single word, the conversation was deemed over, and everyone was sent home. Scott had special instructions to keep Isaac as warm as possible, and indoors until they could locate Peter.

¥

The Hale in question was only a few blocks down the road, sitting on a park bench and enjoying the crisp fall air. With a chime alert, the phone beneath his leg vibrated. 

"The kids and their texting," he sighed dramatically, opening up his messages to see the newest update from his Beacon Hills correspondent.

**Effects are exactly as you stated. Hostility and mood swings are in motion.**

"And the paranoia and hallucinations should begin in momentarily," he laughed to himself, closing his eyes and sinking back against the wood planks. "Thank you, my dear . . . You've made getting to the boy that much easier." 


	4. Chapter 4

Danny Malhealani was having a bad day, and when Stiles Stilinski grabbed hold of his backpack, he knew it was only going downhill.

"Hey Danny," Stiles said, quieter than his usual shouting dialogue. "Can you help me out with something?" He glanced nervously over both shoulders and suddenly shoved Danny into the nearest classroom.

"Hey!" Before the protest was even out of his mouth, Stiles had shut and locked the door. "I didn't even agree to help you."

"Yeah, but I know you will."

"And why's that?"

Stiles raised his head and locked gazes with Danny for so long he started to get uncomfortable.

"Stiles, the last time someone gave me a look like that, I got laid."

Half a minute later, when the smoldering glare didn't lessen any, Danny finally say down in front of the computer.

"Guess I will be helping you."

 

†

 

"Where's Stiles?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "At school, seeing if his friend Danny can help him find Peter's phone history."

"Oh yeah, of course . . . And how will that help us?"

"Scott! Keep up! Someone knew that Isaac and the girls were alone at the store, and what dressing room he had gone into. If we can see what texts or calls he received in that time period, we'll see who told him."

"And what're _we_ doing here again?"

"History of the Epotica Native Americans."

Derek and Scott were at the town library; a strange place to be in the middle of the day, but research needed to be done on where someone could get such a supply of Yosea. The library shelves of educational books were musty and cracked with disuse, and not one of the dozen or so library patrons gave them anything more than a passing glance.

"Just keep flipping until you find anything useful."

"Trust me," Scott replied drily, already tugging down a massive journal. "I'll let you know."

And hour and a half later, Derek let out a breath of surprise.

"Scott?" There was no reply. _"Scott!"_

"What?"

"Get over here. I think this might be important."

 

†

 

After Danny had gotten enough code written to trace a phone number, he called Stiles over from the window.

"I need the number," he said, and Stiles fished a slip of paper out from his pocket: Peter's cell number. No one could be sure if he was still using the same one to communicate, but he was a man of habit and old ways, and if luck was on their side, Peter would have used the same phone he always had to contact whoever was feeding him information.

Danny's fingers flew over the keyboard. "Alright . . . There are a few numbers that show up quite a lot. Recognize any of these?"

One look at the list and the color drained out of his face.

 

†

 

"How do we know these coordinates are accurate?" Scott asked , thumbing through the rest of the journal where they had found the supposed location of the most potent collection of Yosea.

"Because Peter's scent is all over the pages. Now shut up and check where we are."

"Here! Stop!"

Derek slammed on the brakes. The two werewolves lifted their heads to observe their surroundings, since they had been following Derek's GPS the whole ride.

"Wait . . . This . . ."

"Oh god."

Scott fumbled with his phone, quickly dialing Stiles's number. But the phone vibrated in his hand before he could put the call through, and his friend's face flickered onto the screen.

"Stiles?"

"Scott," he sounded out of breath, "we know who it is. "

"I know. We're right outside her house."

Lydia Martin stepped daintily out of her car and quickly strode into the mansion where she lived . . . Right on top of the only fresh Yosea supplement in Beacon Hills.

 

†

 

Half an hour later, after rejoining with Stiles--who looked for all the world like he'd just been on honeymoon (Scott didn't even want to ask)--the trio sat in Derek's car and just stared at Lydia's house.

"So . . . What now?"

For once, fearless leader Derek had no answer. "My best guess is that we don't let on we know it's her. Just feed her some wrong information about Isaac and see what happens."

"No kidnapping? No torturing for information?" Stiles sounded slightly disappointed. For hanging out with a bunch of werewolves, they were really mostly boring.

"Not this time, Stiles," Scott laughed, patting his friend on the back. He grabbed his phone off the seat and pushed open the side door, but Derek snatched his sleeve and stared him down suspiciously.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm just going to call Isaac," he retorted defensively. "Am I not allowed to check up on my pregnant boyfriend, oh great Alpha?"

Derek flushed and quickly let go of Scott, who stepped onto the sidewalk and firmly closed the door.

". . . Awkward," Stiles whispered to himself, turning towards the window.

Outside, Scott punched in Isaac's number and anxiously counted the rings. It seemed like every thought he had revolved around Isaac. Is that what soul mates felt like? If anyone was going to be his mate for life, it would most definitely be Isaac. If not--

"Hello?" Isaac's soft voice broke through his inner monologue.

 

†

 

Isaac had been asleep when the phone rang, and he had to burrow his way out of layers upon layers of blankets to reach it.

"Hello?" He mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

"Isaac? How are you doing?"

Scott sounded so concerned Isaac instantly warmed up inside. "Better now. Aren't you supposed to be at school?"

"No, Derek, Stiles and I were following some leads on who could've told Peter you were in that particular room." Isaac sat up further in bed, fully awake now.

"And?"

There was a pause on the other end before Scott answered. "It's nothing."

"Scott, you're a terrible liar."

He gave a sigh of resignation. "I don't want to worry you anymore than you need to be. This stress can't be good for you or the baby." Instinctively, Isaac put one hand on top of the bulge under his shirt.

"I want to know."

"It was Lydia."

Isaac shuddered. Lydia, who was in two of his classes and had thought to buy the clothes she had picked out for him as Allison dragged his unconscious ass out of the store. She had been with Peter the entire time.

"Isaac? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Going back to sleep wasn't an option after _that_ wonderful piece of news, so he threw off the comforters and stretched out his back.

Scott swore softly. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Scott,” Isaac laughed, “I’m fine, really. I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he responded, relieved it wasn’t something more serious. “In fact, we’re on our way right now.” There was the sound of a car door opening on the other end, and Isaac smiled to himself.

“I’ll see you then.”

“Isaac . . . I love you.”

“I love you too. Come home.”

Scott ended the call, and Isaac’s smile grew. The fact that Scott proclaimed his love in front of Derek and Stiles (who were in the car, he presumed) gave Isaac a burst of energy, and he skipped downstairs. Ms. McCall had already gone off to work, so he helped himself to a few eggs from the fridge. As soon as the eggs hit the hot pan and started bubbling, Isaac’s stomach turned somersaults, and he had to dash for the bathroom. He dry-heaved for a bit, but his stomach was empty. Plugging his nose, he re-entered the kitchen and dumped the eggs down the drain; spraying the room full of febreeze for good measure. Something about the smell of cooking eggs made him nauseous to no end. He settled with crackers and a can of ginger ale and snuggled under a blanket on the couch.

“Guess you don’t like eggs,” he muttered absently, tracing small circles on his belly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 _I guess this is what Deaton meant about nausea,_ he thought to himself . _Not too bad, I guess. Just with eggs. I’ll have to ask if that means anything._ Suddenly, his stomach mewled pitifully, and he needed a strawberry milkshake _now._ He leaped off the couch and picked his phone off the counter where he had left it.

**strawberry milkshake or i’m never speaking to you again.  
xoxo**

Without bothering to wait for a reply, his head hit the armrest and slid into darkness.

 

†

 

“Isaac? . . . Isaac, I brought your milkshake . . .” Isaac clawed his way out of sleep and blinked open his eyes. Scott was coming into the room, and he winced when he realized Isaac had been sleeping. Dropping his backpack on the ground, he walked around and dropped down next to his boyfriend, who immediately snuggled up next to him.

“You’re feeling cuddly today, I see,” Scott laughed, setting the milkshake on the side table. “What’ve you been up to when I was gone?”

“Sleeping,” Isaac answered with a yawn. “I’m tired all the time.”

Even thought it was probably nothing, Scott instantly became concerned. “Should we talk to Deaton about it?” 

He shook his head. “More than likely it’s just all the excitement about Peter and the baby.” Looking up at Scott he flashed him irresistible puppy-dog eyes. “Can I have my milkshake now?”  
Laughing softly, Scott handed him the milkshake, which he sucked on eagerly.

“I swear, you’re a five-year-old,” he teased, twirling a dusty curl around his finger. Isaac didn’t answer. Instead, he wrapped the large blanket around Scott and put his head on his muscular shoulder. Scott’s hands wound around his waste and settled on his swollen stomach. Both were more comfortable with the action, and Isaac was even enjoying the feeling of his warm hands. Before, when he was just beginning to show, Scott could put his hands on either side and touch his fingertips against each other; surrounding the bump. But as the baby grew at a more rapid pace, Scott couldn’t touch his hands together anymore. 

“When’s your mom getting home?” Isaac whispered, feeling a need to be quiet.

“In about an hour,” Scott answered, equally quiet. “Why?” 

In answer, Isaac set his empty cup on the side table, tossed the blanket over the armrest, and twisted so that he was sitting on Scott’s lap with his legs around his waist. He smiled softly and traced his hands down Isaac’s back.

“Well, I can think of a few things we can get done in an hour . . .”

Scott pressed his mouth against Isaac’s open lips, and slowly traced down to his prominent collarbones while Isaac’s hands were slipping down almost to his––

“Boys?” 

Neither had heard the door open, and there was a flurry of silent activity before they settled back into their previous position under the blanket. Not even a second later, Melissa McCall peered into the room and shot them a smile.

“I thought I’d come home early to cook you guys dinner.”

“Sounds perfect,” Scott grinned, trying to keep from laughing. “What were you thinking?”

“Maybe breakfast for dinner? I could cook up some eggs and––”

Isaac leaped to his feet and flew to the bathroom, hands over his mouth.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a stirring that woke Scott up, but it was the serene sight next to him that _kept_ him awake. Isaac's face, usually thoughtful or tense, was completely relaxed in the depths of sleep, and his hands were curled softly next to the pillow. Scott intertwined their fingers, and Isaac barely even stirred. He thought back to their conversation the night before, where Isaac had confessed his always-present fatigue. Even now, in the sharp light from the window, dark circles surrounded his eyes. If it was the baby causing his boyfriend the stress, maybe Deaton had something to help him.

Speaking of Deaton . . . Didn't Isaac have an meeting with him today? In . . . An hour?

"Isaac," Scott whispered, running his free hand along Isaac's hairline, "sweetheart, you have to wake up now."

In answer, Isaac crinkled his nose and turned his face into the pillow. Scott chuckled and continued to tease his hair into tighter curls.

"Hiding isn't the answer."

"Yes it is," came the muffled response. Laughing loudly, Scott threw the covers off his side of the bed and padded over to Isaac's. He sat down and patted where he presumed his shoulder was. Finally Isaac rolled over and glared at Scott over the top of the blanket.

"It's not my fault you have an appointment with Dr. Deaton today."

"Yes it is," he repeated, but he could see it was a losing battle. With a sigh, he pushed himself up the headboard with his elbows. If he tried to use any muscles in his stomach, he'd spend the rest of the day wracked with cramps. Scott kissed him softly and smiled at the blush that spread across his boyfriend's cheeks.

"What's the appointment for?" Isaac asked, yawning and stretching his shoulders.

"Just a checkup for the baby, I think." Scott pulled the covers off fully and both boys stared down at Isaac's swollen stomach. Gently, in case it made him uncomfortable, Scott leaned down and kissed the crown of the bulge.

"That feels weird," Isaac laughed. "Not bad, just . . . Weird."

"Get ready and I'll drive you down to the office."

Scott brushed his lips across Isaac's forehead and went downstairs to find his mom.

†

Deaton welcomed Isaac and Scott (who had been permitted to miss half of the school day to accompany his boyfriend to the doctor's checkup), and carefully flipped the door sign to closed.

"How are you, Isaac?" Deaton asked in his soft tenor voice.

"Good, I guess." He answered uncertainly, glancing at Scott. He got a nod of encouragement and continued. "There's just a few things we'd like to talk to you about."

Deaton shifted a few papers on the counter and smiled reassuringly. "Well why don't you come back alone, and we can get started on your physical examination. Then Scott can join us, and we'll answer any questions you may have."

Scott took a seat in one of the leather waiting room chairs, looking slightly anxious, and Isaac and Deaton filed back to the back room.

As always, there was a large metal table in the very center of the concrete room, with equipment-filled counters on every wall. Unlike his usual setup, there was a large machine in the corner, and various jars standing next to it. Wires traced the floor and snaked up to Deaton's computer. He caught Isaac's frightened glances and quickly explained.

"It's a sonogram, not a torture device." Isaac laughed uneasily, but looked a bit more relaxed. "All it'll do is let us see how the baby is developing, and if we can do anything to help with you sleeping problems and fatigue."

Isaac's head shot up. "How'd you know about that?"

"You could pass for a raccoon if you were smaller, Isaac," Deaton teased gently. "It's not that hard to tell you haven't been sleeping well, or too much. Why don't you wait here, and I'll pull out a bed that's more your size."

He went to a supply closet and pulled out a human-sized cot; dragging it next to the sonogram machine. After a nod, Isaac lowered himself down. With his stomach roughly the size of a basketball, any position out of the ordinary was more than a little awkward.

"Can you pull up your shirt for me? Not very far, just over your stomach. I'm going to put a cream on your skin, and it'll be very cold, so watch out." Just as Deaton had promised, the smooth lotion bit into his skin, and he shivered. "Now hold still . . ."

He raised a hand-held device that looked similar to a flatter checkout scanner and slowly lowered it onto Isaac's round belly. When the cool plastic met his skin, he squeaked involuntarily.

"Sorry," Deaton laughed, but his tone was more amused than apologetic. The computer flickered to life, and something black and white throbbed under the device’s x-ray gaze. Suddenly, Isaac thought of something.

“Wait, isn’t this an important moment?” 

Deaton blinked. “For a couple with a child on the way, yes. I almost forgot that Scott was here. Do you want me to call him in?”

After a quick nod, Deaton left the room. Cold air swirled around the room, chilling Isaac to the bone. It seemed the only after-effect of the Yosea was a permanent chill. Also, the only other person to see his bare stomach was Scott, and having it out to the open like this made him slightly uncomfortable. Of course, it was only Deaton, but it was still weird. He wiggled on the cot. Finally, Scott and the doctor reentered, the former looking nervous but excited. He kneeled on the tile floor next to Isaac, gripping his hand. Deaton resumed his spot next to the computer, with the device once again pressed gently to his stomach.

“If we do this right, you’ll probably be able to see the baby. I’m sure it’s mostly developed, seeing as you appear to be well into your second trimester.” 

All eyes locked onto the screen, and Scott’s keen ears twitched for the sound of a heartbeat. In the corner, something moved, and Deaton slowly shifted his position on Isaac’s stomach. 

_Bumbum bum bumbum bum bumbum bum._

Isaac drew in a breath.

“Why does it sound so quick?” He asked desperately, slightly panicked. “Is something wrong?”

It took a moment for Deaton to answer, but Scott had already picked up on what was going on. 

“Is it really . . .”

“Is it what?” Isaac exclaimed.

“Isaac, there’s nothing wrong.” Deaton answered, glancing down at him with a strange light gleaming in his eyes. “There’s two heartbeats. You’re having twins.”

†

Sitting alone on a roadside bench, Lydia Martin waited. For a very long while, it felt as if her whole life was going to be spent waiting. That is, until Peter Hale waltzed in, spinning her reality into one where people would be waiting on _her,_ just like they used to at Beacon Hills High, before her whole life flipped around and backwards. Jackson had been a giant homicidal lizard, Scott revealed himself to be a werewolf, Allison was a hunter, and Stiles (who she had just been beginning to see in a different light) turned out to be nothing more than a pathetic human thrown into the bunch.

Peter was in a class by himself. He was mature, powerful, and sly—everything that she searched for in a guy. And she got all of him she could ever ask for, as long as she fed him information on Isaac and the pregnancy. A small price to pay for true love, right?

“Lydia?” A voice next to her, Peter’s voice, tore her out of reverie. He gazed at her with intelligent brown eyes. “What have you got for me?”

“Well,” she said, sliding along the bench until their legs were touching, “apparently Scott and his bitch went to see Deaton yesterday.”

“. . . And?”

She paused, building the suspense, and finally leaned in closer.

“Isaac’s having twins.”

The air filled with the electricity of Peter’s excitement, but Lydia was too distracted by his nose to notice. 

“The genders?”

“One boy, one girl.” Lydia began to coyly inspect her fingernails. “Identical twins.”

“So that’s why Isaac was growing so quickly,” he mused, steepling his fingers underneath his chin in a very Sherlock-Holmesish pose. “And why he’s always so protective. It’s natural maternal instincts more than doubled. Lydia, you are fantastic.”

He turned into her waiting lips, and kissed his immeasurable gratitude.

“Our usual place?” She mumbled, eyes closed.

“Of course,” he purred, eyes already looking forward to the final plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was short, the next one will be longer, and with some more plot line revealed! Any things I can make better about the fic so far, or in the future?  
> -G.S.


	6. Chapter 6

_To comprehend the next few events in Isaac and Scott's story, a few occurrences of their past must first be explained._

_Before the two began their relationship, another pack had arrived in Beacon Hills. A pack consisting entirely of alphas. Kali, Ennis, Ethan, and Aidan claimed the group was democratic, but it was obviously ruled by Deucalion, their blind leader. In order to keep things in line, Aidan and Ethan (identical twins) attending Beacon Hills High, and formed relationships. One brother with Lydia, the other with Danny Malhealani. The packs had clashed on several occasions, but nothing major until Boyd, Isaac, Scott, and Derek faced off against them in an abandoned mall. Derek and Ennis toppled off the second level, supposedly killing them both. Derek lived, and Ennis would have survived if it wasn't for Deucalion tearing his face off. There was no room for weakness in the alpha pack. Derek was given until the next full moon to join the pack or be killed, and he was joined by Isaac and Boyd facing off against them. There, Derek was held down and forced to kill the only person who had done him no wrong—Vernon Boyd. After that, the pack vanished into the woods, and hadn’t been seen since. No one knew where they had run off to._

_Or so it seemed._

 

Ethan dimly felt the cell phone vibrating against his thigh, but he definitely woke up when a palm hit his face.

“Where’s the phone, dumbass?” Aidan growled, rifling through his sleeping bag to reach his pocket. “It’s ringing.”

“Think I don’t know that?” He sighed, pulling it out of his shorts and throwing it at Aidan’s face, all without opening his eyes. With a dull smack, Aidan grabbed it away from his face and eagerly flipped it open. Only two words were spoken, but it sent the alpha pack heading straight for Beacon Hills.

“It’s time.”

 

†

 

After the big news came, the next week passed rather uneventfully. Isaac was strictly forbidden from leaving the house, since he had grown so large his new clothes didn't even fit. His fashion sense digressed into baggy tee-shirts that hung off his swollen stomach and pajama pants four sizes too large. These clothes, however, were perfect for snuggling and sleeping, two of his favorite things. But from the time Scott left in the morning to the time he returned, Isaac was lonely and had no way to pass the time. He started going through the summer blockbusters, then back to _The Breakfast Club_ and _Fright Night._ When he heard Scott's bike in the driveway, he rushed to the door like a puppy and listened to Scott regaling whatever had happened at school that day.

But one Friday, Isaac was just getting to know the characters of _Back to the Future_ when his ears twitched. Something outside had rustled the fall leaves. Carefully, not pausing the movie, he got to his feet and padded silently over to the window. With one finger, he whipped the curtain back and came face to face with a monster. Bubbling flesh covered the slightly-humanoid visage, but the brow was flat and angled. Glittery red eyes bored into his soul. Suddenly, it opened its massive mouth and shrieked in his face. A yelp burst forth form his lips, and he stumbled backwards, the curtain falling back into place over the hideous vision. Frantically, he dashed for the laundry room, which had no windows. He slammed the door shut and sank into the small crevice between the washer and the wall.

Tremors overtook his body, and both hands landed on his stomach. With each pulse of his racing heart, pain flared in his abdomen, and he worked desperately to slow his breathing. He brought his knees up as far as they could go (which wasn't very far) and screwed his eyes shut. Howls continued to barrage the house, and he couldn't remember if he had locked the door or not. _Had he locked the door?_ Tears of frustration and terror slid down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed to the babies under his protection, "I'm so sorry."

Scott found him there when he returned from school two hours later.

 

†

 

When Isaac's teeth stopped chattering enough to get a word out, he told the story to Scott and Derek (who had been called right away).

"Have you ever heard of something like that?" Scott asked. The alpha shook his head slowly, brow furrowed.

"Nothing."

"Did you smell anything?"

A strange look passed over Derek's face, but he regained his composure in the blink of an eye.

"Actually why don't we go check?" He stepped out into the hall, obviously wanting Scott to follow. He knelt down in front of Isaac, where he sat with one hand below his stomach and the other resting on top, blankly staring at the ground.

"Isaac?" Groggily, he lifted his gaze. "Isaac, I'm going to go look around with Derek, just stay here."

Before Scott could move, Isaac's hand shot out and snagged his wrist.

"Don't leave me," he whimpered. Scott, sighing sadly, leaned forward and hugged his shaking boyfriend.

"I'll be back before you know it. Stay right here, okay?"

After a moment, Isaac nodded feebly, and Scott kissed him on the forehead before joining Derek outside.

"Smell anything now?"

His alpha shot him a look, and shook his head. "That's the thing, Scott. I can't smell _anything."_

"Whats wrong?"

"It's not me, it's Isaac." They began strolling around the perimeter of the house. "You probably don't notice it, but the mark Peter put on him is starting to take affect. All I can smell is the pregnancy."

Scott crinkled his nose and tried to smell anything out of the ordinary. "What does it smell like?"

"Brown sugar and . . . Pineapple." This elicited a chuckle from Scott.

"That's oddly specific." Derek shrugged, but before an explanation could be offered, there was a blood-curdling scream from inside.

_Isaac._

Both werewolves immediately bolted back in the house and made for the living room. What met them made everything clearer and infinitely more complicated. Isaac was hunched in the corner, howling with fear. Both hands were over his ears, but his eyes were locked on what seemed to be the most frightening thing he had ever seen.

The room was empty. Whatever threatened the beta, it was something only he could see. Derek guessed that the elusive monster in the window was only a figment of his imagination.

Scott rushed to Isaac's side. "There's nothing there! Isaac, it's all in your head."

Tension filled the room with a musty scent, but slowly the panic seeped out of his gray eyes. He collapsed into Scott with racking sobs. Holding him carefully, Scott guided him to the couch, where he seemed to fold into himself.

"It was so real," he murmured, staring at Scott in desperation. "It was _there."_

"No it wasn't," Derek snapped. He was pacing the room, looking everywhere for some hint to Isaac's hallucination.

"Derek, maybe a little sensitivity?" The alpha turned, seemingly noticing Isaac's tear-streak for the first time. He winced.

"Sorry, Isaac." Still glancing around for a clue, he joined them on the couch. "I need you to remember anything that might've brought you into contact with Yosea today."

A dreadful silence took hold as Isaac's gray eyes slid out of focus. "I . . . I haven't eaten anything but toast this morning . . . No one's even been in the house." Derek growled loudly and slammed a fist on his leg.

“We can’t do anything if we don’t know where it’s coming from.”

Isaac whimpered softly. “I’m so-sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault, Isaac.” Scott put an arm around his shoulders and kissed the top of his curly head. “It’ll just take some time.”

“I need to look for Peter,” Derek said as he headed toward the door. “Don’t let Isaac out of your sight.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Scott muttered. 

In Isaac’s head, the creature was still there. It stood motionless next to the window where it’s first appearance had been made. But now, knowing the illusion was only in his head, Isaac kept his mouth tightly shut.

_Go away,_ he thought savagely, locking eyes with the thing. 

_I am not going anywhere, Isaac Lahey._ He jumped a little bit in Scott’s arms at the horrifying voice in his head.

“You okay?” Scott asked, instantly concerned.

“Yeah . . . Yeah I’m fine.”

_Now and forever we are one. Wherever you travel, I shall follow. There is no escaping your destiny, Isaac. When the twins are soon due, you will be seeing much more of me. And once they are outside your body. They are mine. THEY ARE MINE._

“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP,” Isaac screamed, digging his nails into his throbbing temples.

“Isaac! Isaac what is it?”

“You can’t have them,” Isaac sobbed, screwing his eyes shut against the leering specter. “You can’t have them . . .”

Scott could do nothing to help but hold him tighter and try to calm him down.

†

The next day at school, Scott ran into a flustered Stiles.

“Have you seen?” He panted, clutching his friend’s arm.

“Seen what?” Scott shook himself free, but listened nonetheless. Something in Stiles’s eyes was scarily urgent. “Stiles, seen what?”

“The twins. They’re back in school.”


	7. Chapter 7

Thanksgiving had arrived, and even though Beacon Hills was riddled with enemies and sorrow, the pack had a surprising number of things to be thankful for. Derek wasn't dead from the alpha's fight, Isaac had a secure place to live and wait out the pregnancy, and Scott wasn't failing high school. Right before dinner was to be served, Melissa and Officer Stilinski (Stiles and his father were spending the holidays with them) puttered around the kitchen, glazing the ham and preparing the dishes to serve. The boys were, of course, upstairs playing video games. 

Stiles was sprawled stomach-done across Scott's bed, while owner of the room was lounging against the side of the mattress. Isaac, wrapped in blankets, was on the floor leaning into Scott's side with Stiles's controller right above his head.

"Dammit Stiles!" Scott roared, frantically pressing buttons. "That was my box and you know it!"

"That's the reason I took it, dumbass." Tongue poking out between his teeth, Stiles leaned forward, resting his hands on Isaac's curly head. "And now I have your boyfriend hostage."

Trying not to laugh, Isaac feigned terror in a monotonous voice. "Oh no. Someone save me, please."

_You have no one._

He struggled not to turn his head to stare down the entity in the corner. Actually, he chose to ignore it completely. 

"When's dinner going to be ready?" He mumbled instead, letting Stiles's hands roll off of his head.

"You're always hungry," Stiles laughed. 

"So are you!" He retorted. "Besides, I've got two other mouths to feed." 

"Actually, babies get their nutrients from the umbilical cords, not their mout-- SCOTT WHAT THE HELL?"

"You were busy with the goblins, your boxes were just calling my name!" 

Stiles threw the controller down in disgust, just as Officer Stilinski's voice called from downstairs.

"Boys, dinner, now." 

"Coming!" Stiles rolled off the bed and--almost bashing his face in the process-- flew out the door. Scott helped Isaac to his feet, and kissed him softly

"How are you feeling?" He whispered, running his hand over the crest of Isaac's stomach. The other boy shrugged.

"The creature . . . It's still there, but I just kind of . . . Ignore it. Other than that I'm fine. When do you think the twins will be due?" 

"Well Deaton said 8 weeks . . . " Scott ran some quick math. "Probably next week or the week after. They'll be winter babies." 

"I just can't . . . " Isaac shook his head. "Never mind." 

"What is it?" 

"Scott?" Came Melissa's curious voice from the bottom of the stairs. "Are you coming?" 

"Yeah mom, one moment." His voice dropped back down to normal. "Isaac, you can tell me. We're in this together."

"I'm just worried about everything, that's all. It's nothing in particular, just everything all at once." Though trying his hardest to find the words to voice his concern, Isaac was really getting nowhere.

"You're just scared." Scott offered gently, and he nodded.

"Of the alphas and the things in my head . . . And what's going to happen to the twins? Do I go back to school and put them in day care? How are we going to explain them?" 

A solemn tear leaked out of the corner of his closed eyes and fell to the floor. Scott gently tucked the blanket around his shoulders and kissed his forehead, wondering how long this had all been bothering his boyfriend.

"YO LOVEBIRDS. I WANT TO EAT SOMETIME BEFORE THE APOCALYPSE." 

The pair erupted into laughter, and Isaac quickly dragged his sleeve across his watery eyes.

"Right on cue, Stiles," Scott laughed. Taking his hand, the werewolf led him downstairs to where their family waited. 

The small dinner table that the McCall's had was bowed in the middle with the weight of all the food. Isaac was sandwiched between Scott and Officer Stilinski (who had conveniently placed himself next to Mrs. McCall). Stiles was sitting next to his best friend, staring mournfully at his empty plate. 

"Are we going to go around and ask what everyone's thankful for?" Officer Stilinski asked, earning a groan from all the boys. "Melissa, why don't you start?" 

"Alright." The two shared a smile that lasted a bit too long, and it made their sons squirm and clear their throats. "I'm thankful that you and your son are here, and that I managed to cook an entire meal without burning the house down."

"Stiles?"

"I guess, I'm thankful for food . . . And that I'm actually playing lacrosse now . . . And girls . . . "

Scott slapped him upside the head. "I'll go next. I'm glad that Stiles is here, and that Isaac came to stay with us. I'm also thankful for food." 

There was a moment of silence before Scott nudged Isaac. He lifted his head, his gray eyes shining with pure joy.

"I'm thankful for Ms. McCall, for letting me stay here. And for cooking this wonderful meal. Also, I haven't gone completely crazy yet, being in this house all the time."

It was said in jest, and everyone laughed. Scott took his hand under the table and shot him a grin. 

"I'm thankful for everything," Officer Stilinski said. "Let's eat." 

¥

The next day, after Scott had trudged off to school and Melissa had been at the hospital for hours, Isaac puttered around the kitchen. Dishes from thanksgiving dinner were scattered everywhere, and he had volunteered to wash them all since Melissa had cooked the entire meal. Now, staring over the carnage of last night, he started thinking he had bit off more than he could chew. Sighing, he turned on Pandora and started on the wine glasses. 

Two hours later, all he had left to clean was a few plates and bowls. Stacks of gleaming white serving platters took up a majority of the counter space. Movie soundtracks were blasting through the kitchen, and he was in a surprisingly good mood. 

Without warning, the music shut off. Silence rushed into the kitchen, and Isaac whirled around with a dripping plate in his hands. Someone had muted the radio. He took a few cautious steps towards the living room doorway and peeked around. It was empty. Holding his breath he turned back to the direction he had come . . . And froze solid.

The alpha twins were standing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Well if it isn't Scott's little bitch," one of them sneered. 

"Fat with pups," the other snarled. "I'm surprised he kept you, looking like that." 

Isaac flushed with fear and embarrassment, and fought the urge to touch his swollen stomach.

"What are you doing here?" He said tightly. 

"What do you think?" Simultaneously, they took a step toward him. "We're going to send Scott a message." 

A hand shot out and toppled a tower of bowls onto the floor, where they shattered into a million pieces. Isaac yelped and while distracted, the twins bounded forward and grabbed his arms--slamming his knees into the floor and yanking his head back.

"Oops. Looks like you'll have to sweep the floors," one said in a not-very-sorry-at-all voice. From his left side, a fist caught Isaac's temple and sent him crashing into the glass-covered floor. Blood running down his cheek, he lifted his head into another punch. Before he could drop, the twins picked him up and dropped him into a kitchen chair and knotted him tightly in with a jumper cable. Two more hits came in quick succession, immediately swelling his right eye shut.

"Interesting," one noted, grabbing his jaw and tilting Isaac's head from side to side. "Why aren't you healing?" 

"Why question it?" The other laughed cruelly. "Better for us, right?"

"If we kill him and the pups, Deucalion will murder us."

"Good point." The meaner of the twins stepped forward and knocked on Isaac's face until blood poured down his nose and chin.

"See you soon, Isaac," they called back as they left calmly through the front door. "Very soon." 

Dazed and bruised, blood coating his loosened teeth, Isaac had no strength to snap the ropes he probably could've broken. Instead, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

¥

In his dream, he seemed to be in a dark sewer tunnel. Murky trails of liquid coated the walls, and the air was heavy with a scent that he couldn't place. A few feet away, Peter Hale and Deucalion stood over something, but their bodies were blocking his view. After trying to take a few steps toward them, he realized he couldn't move. Apparently his dream didn't want him to see.

"It's only a week or so away," Deucalion murmured in his deep accent. "When should we move?"

"As soon as Deaton wants him. His third trimester starts within the week." 

With a start, Isaac realized they were talking about _him._

"Deaton will try and get Isaac to stay in the animal hospital with him, where he'll be safe from . . . Well, us. If we can't get him before Deaton does, we won't get him at all."

Deaton turned over his shoulder, looking towards the tunnel Isaac was standing in front of. His blind gaze passed over Isaac, as if he wasn't there at all. Apparently in the dream, he wasn't actually there. Unsatisfied that their conversation was private, Deucalion said something in Peter's ear, and the pair moved down a different pathway. Finally he saw what they had been standing over, and if he could've opened his mouth, he would've screamed loud enough to wake the dead.

Two small cribs, side by side.


End file.
